New Soul
by fallen-songstress-lenne
Summary: “It's all a bit unfair though, don't you think?” The age old plan for a character too good to throw away, except no one needs it more than this guy. Post T&T, Miego in a way . Yes, an OC. But please don't hate on me.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Diego

She'd just smiled sadly and said, "It's all a bit unfair though, don't you think?"

He hadn't really understood. It was him, and not some wicked twist of fate, that had put the final nail in the coffin – him who had shown up so naively to that meeting with the woman who had ruined his life, him who had put that letter back for the little girl to find, him who had killed Mia's mother. But still she looked at him with her sad eyes. Shouldn't it have been the other way around?

She had just shook her head, dismissing his objection as easily as she would have in court.

He had hammered away at that final nail, and he hoped his own attorney would have that kind of attitude when it came to court. After all, this was what he had expected – what he had planned. Right?

"You don't need to end it like this. You didn't need to do what you did, and you don't need to do what you're doing now."

He still didn't understand.

"It's just too sad. Five years clawing your way out of the depths of Hell, and for what?"

To protect Maya Fey, and do battle with Phoenix Wright. To both protect for and avenge Mia. At least, that was what he had told himself.

"You're just throwing it all away, Diego."

She looked at him – past the masks over his eyes and his heart – and told him straight.

"You're giving up."

He had told her before. He remembered, a trial that had seemed hopeless.

'Diego Armando never gives up.'

How could she say he was giving up? He didn't have anything to fight for anymore!

"Nothing to fight for, huh...." she murmured, tilting her head down to stare at her hands - Maya's hands.

He couldn't see her face, but in her hands she was holding something. A book.

It was bound to be a book of memoirs – it was like Mia to make something like that. Holding on to memories was something she did well: Her mother's, Terry's -

His.

She slid the book under the glass wordlessly, and stood up to go.

He watched her; again, he didn't understand.

"I'll be back in a week," she said, not turning to look at him. "Your trial is in two weeks, right?"

He didn't answer, staring at the book with distaste, as though it had possessed her to leave.

"Just..." she sighed, "Just look, Diego. Past all the masks and veils. At what this all really means."

She paused, as if to say something else, but when he raised his head, she was gone.

Men are creatures of action. That's what he always said. But, once she had gone, he left the book on the other side of his cell, as far away as possible. Every time he reached out to look inside, he would see her look of hopeful melancholy, looking for a sign his fire for life had returned, and his resolve would die as quickly as that fire of his had done when he woke up in that hospital room a year ago, all alone.

He needed some coffee.

Time passed slowly in that place, and yet it was two days before she was due to return before he snatched up the book and opened it.

He hadn't really known what to expect. He knew that she wanted desperately for him to change his mind; for it to make that fire and passion for life return. But he hadn't put any real thought into what might do that for him.

Somehow, that woman always knew, even when he didn't. They say soul mates know how to fill in the holes in yourself you didn't know were there. She'd always done that.

She'd done it again. Turnabout.

It was a blank page where he had opened the book; a blank page save for a tiny, thumbnail of a photograph. It was her, bleary eyed, tired and smiling so much her happiness reflected off the page.

It had been a while, he thought. He remembered when he used to make her smile like that.

This time, it wasn't directly his doing. Not directly.

In the photo, cradled in Mia's arms, was a small child, and finally, he understood.

Flicking past the pages of legal documents glued or taped haphazardly into the book, he found the page he was looking for.

Name, Elise Armando. Born, May 25th, 2013.

The dates fit.

His fire had returned.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Mia

She came to see him again, and he was smiling. His Diego smile; Not that huge, effort filled Godot grin, not that tiny hint of a smile he'd get when he had baffled her with a complicated metaphor in court, or made her tea with lots of milk and sugar and placed it next to his manly mug of black coffee - their inside joke. No, this was a proper Diego smile, and she could tell his passion had returned. She hadn't been sure it would have, and she told him so.

He laughed then, and took a gulp of coffee.

"You always know what's best, kitten. Life or death, you always know."

And he smiled again, melting her insides slightly, despite herself.

He finished his mug – judging by time of day and rate of consumption she was guessing at his fifteenth morning cup – and settled down in his chair, like a little kid asked if he is sitting comfortably for the story, and making sure he is. It appeared that, in this case, she was the storyteller.

She explained it to him, first, about how it came about. It had been a bitter-sweet time for her – coping with his death and then discovering a new life. She was born just a few weeks before the case with Phoenix and Dahlia: she should have been on bed rest really, but she had needed to take that case, if only for some sort of closure. Until then, she had stayed at a channelling school in the valley.

"After all, I wasn't in the best position for raising a child. Something of a single mother with a lacking career in law. Tiny one bedroomed apartment. It wasn't ideal."

He nodded. He didn't blame her, and for that she was grateful.

"I didn't want her in foster care, or adopted. That was my worst nightmare – never to see her again. I wanted to take care of her Diego – but I couldn't, not whilst tracking Redd. She could have gotten hurt. So I...arranged for her to stay at one of the valley's orphanages. A channelling school."

His expression hardened slightly at that, and it was understandable. After everything, channelling wasn't something he wanted to have to do with again.

"There wasn't any other way, Diego," she said, the pleading tone imminent in her voice.

"Does she have any power?" he asked quietly.

This whole time, she hadn't seen it as a good thing, but she couldn't help but smile slightly when she told him she had no spiritual power to speak of.

"She takes after her dad more than me in that respect, I suppose," she said ruefully, and he laughed slightly.

"She looks like you," he said, and her heart broke a little.

"Really?"

"You bet," he said with a swig of his coffee, "She's got your eyes – clichéd, but true."

He placed down his mug. "She's beautiful, Mia."

She struggled not to cry, choosing to sniffle a bit and smile wide.

He waited for her to compose herself, and then sat up straight, ready to get down to business. Men are creatures of action, after all.

"So here's the deal. I fight. They're looking for complete acquittal for the murder charge due to circumstances, but I still have obstruction of justice charges and whatnot, apparently. If I plead guilty to all charges, I'll get off with a hefty fine and a couple of years in jail, tops.

She was surprised, of course – a couple of years?

He grinned again,. Of course.

"When I say hefty, I mean hefty, kitten. More than four figures. Plus, there's the disbarment-"

"Disbarment?"

"You think I can practise in the very law I broke? Not going to happen."

"Well, how do they expect you to pay a fine without a profession?"

He pondered this for a minute.

"Maybe they did some digging and heard about my old man and the plantation."

"That's not your money, and he's not your father."

He couldn't argue with that.

She stood up, determination in her eyes.

"I'm going to go talk to that judge. Or the Bar Association. If you're going to raise a child, you can't do it on love alone."

He was stunned by that.

"I...I'm raising her?"

Her turn.

"W-what? What were you planning on doing? Visiting at weekends?"

"...She might be happier where she is, Mia."

"...happier?"

"What do I know about kids – about her? I haven't got a clue about how she's lived for the past five years. I can't just swoop in there and take her from her home just to give myself some purpose. She's just a kid."

She slammed her hands on the table, back in court and determined to be heard.

"Yes, Diego. Yes. She's just a kid. A kid who's different. A kid who isn't a medium; a kid with no real spiritual powers; a kid who looks different, who isn't actually an orphan-"

He slammed his mug down. "Things aren't always going to go perfectly, Mia. They never do – not in real life. Even if I did take her, she...she might not be happy with me. It might not be the home she wants-"

"You really think she can call _that_ place home? A place where the other girls exclude her – a place where her only friends come once a month to see her? Where she has to ask someone to call a spirit just so she can see her own mother? What you have to offer, Diego, it's much, much better than that."

"Look, Mia. How do you know that I'll be a decent father, anyway?"

"You won't be."

She was calm again, and she nodded, sure of him and sure of herself.

"You won't be a _decent_ father. You'll be a great father."


End file.
